#korith

I started writing my thoughts as a way to fill the countless, empty, pointless days. Just a mindless task to keep the dark thoughts from making their way in... as they had for so many ways.

In writing them, I sorted them. Rambling at the beginning -if you’ve read this far, you know that. How my thoughts would jump from my childhood to an old man to a random memory that doesn’t connect at all. But things felt... cleaner, putting them on paper.

And in writing, I found myself a new purpose. Not a grand one; I had no intention of sharing my stories to the masses. But it was my chance, my purpose, to put myself on the page. Not the person the world would see, but the person I truly was. The truth is, the majority of what the world knows about me -about the people I served with- is just... off. Not wrong, but also not true. Watered down, a pretty picture that just barely touches reality.

I am not a learned man. I do not have the words to correct those on the street who see heroes and monsters, and I don’t have the strength to do so anymore. I can’t make speeches, or sing a tale to portray what we went through. This is all I can do, and pray that whoever reads this -if anyone does- takes something away from it.

I have already spoken of my actions during the Great War. How much pain and horror we -all sides- caused in the name of “honor”, serving masters who only cared for their own power. I have made excuses in the past, my ignorance and surety that we were doing right... bringing justice and punishment where it belonged, that we would have prosperity in this unified world we imagined.

I was wrong. And I will not -can not- go into it again. Once was more than enough, and I can’t bear to remember all those who were lost again.

But I have never spoken of the end. The day it all changed. Not to my family, my poor sister and nephews who took me in and bear with an old man’s presence. Not to singers who want new tales to sing, not to any living soul. Not even on paper have I documented that day. I have done everything I could to forget... and I have failed. But I was-

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-hero. Who could have believed him? He was no warrior no fighter. He fled from conflict, hid from battle and somehow expected respect from those who risked everything? He thought a war spanning generations would end because he claimed it was the goddess’ will?

Even now, it is hard to believe Korith would have chosen him. But that is the way of it, isn’t it? The goddess chooses those who are needed... and the world didn’t need another destroyer.

It needed someone of faith. Something with the strength to grow and rebuild, to break down the walls we built. The world needed him.

And it was kings who tore him down. Who had him torn apart, as an example to those who would leave to the hero’s side, to choose the goddess over their expectations.

I was not involved. I wasn’t. The only thing I saw was anger and blood, but those were not new sights to any of us. Our innocence had been lost long ago. We knew, of course we did, what would be done when the king’s loyal dogs, his famed torturers entered the tent.

But to this day, I will swear I never heard him break. Not a single scream, although it must have been horrible; other confessions exist that would admit the same thing.

I thought it made him a fool then. Why not give them what they want? You won’t be given your life, but at the very least it would give you release. End the horror, and find peace in a quick death instead of the slow.

Now I envy him. My faith, renewed by that day, has never been and never will be as strong. His will, unbroken to the end, is one to strive for... one I can never forget. He carried a belief that if he held on, the world could only be better, even if he weren’t there to see it.

And he had hope, something the rest of us had forgotten. Hope that he shared willingly to the world, and that lives on in every person that has come since. In every survivor, every birth, every change... parts of his vision for the world. If only-

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-a light so blinding, you couldn’t see the person standing next to you? A piercing light that reached the depths of your soul, exposing and burning the dark stains you never wanted anyone to see? To know that all your monsters were there for all to see, and to know all the demons those around you carried?

Would you understand the weight it puts on someone, to bring them all with you through a long life? To bear the weight off all the sins that were exposed in that light?

It scares me, how easily it seems to be ignored. How easy it would have been for me to push it aside, to never mention it. To pretend that memory had failed this old man, to dismiss it all as an old man grasping for some reason behind it all.

I was never a pious man before that day. But having seen the goddess, I know how true it all is. Perhaps not faith, like her hero and so many others have, but an undeniable knowledge of what lies beyond. In her light, I knew what waited for all of us in the dark. Maybe I’ll even welcome it, because there I can hide. Shadows welcome shadows, it is said, but the light... nothing has scared me more than that.

But now I must move on, before my courage fails me. I must speak of the goddess, before I run out of time.

I’m sure there is little I can say that hasn’t already been said. But nothing you’ve heard in the songs can compare... this won’t compare, but at least it will be my truth.

The light faded eventually, just enough for us to see she was there. Like every story we had ever been told, a living storm in the shape no different than a mortal woman... and although all was still like the dead, I could feel an uncontrollable force in the air. There was no doubt: to move was to be struck down. To escape the penetrating light, you had to be swallowed by infinite darkness.

And Korith did not care for our fates either way.

Disdain is too strong of a word. Indifference doesn’t quite fit. I don’t know the word that would match what her gaze felt like... anger over her hero’s fate, but also... nothing. She cared for us soldiers in the way that we cared for rates in our food, or the bugs under our feet.

She could destroy us, and then forget we ever existed. Maybe that’s the fate we deserved, a punishment the world could never pretend away.

Instead, she demanded peace. If we mortals could not be trusted to rule ourselves without destruction, then she would enforce this “truce”... one way or another.

And she would prove it.

I can’t tell you how many more died in those next moments. But protests died before they could finish being voiced; bolts of light turned them to ash before the first words came out. All around the field, regardless of home or rank, they were just... gone, in a blinding hot flash. And in the blowing ash, beasts from legend flew, crystal reflecting their queen’s attacks as a warning to the others. Every side of the war lost, humbled under power we had believed to be legend.

You’ve likely heard of the destruction, in stories or songs. It’s easier to handle that way, prettier and easier to accept. But what lives in my mind? I wish it were the way the songs tell it; perhaps the regrets would have died if it were.

But I remember the suffocating pressure in the air. I remember her terrible beauty, and the painful grace of her destruction... bolts of lightning dancing under her skin to explode in the skies. Not one song can accurately portray how the light we take for granted as good can be as monstrous and terrifying and cruel as the dark.

I would have welcomed the shadows then... as I will shortly. Yes, I can feel my time is coming, that soon I will rejoin my comrades in Thearial’s realm.

The priests say that all souls can be redeemed, if they truly wish it. And I wish I could believe that. How could we be worthy of the peace that would come with it? How could I be worthy of it?

See, when we saw our own sins -and the sins of the others- it became a curse. A curse that made it clear how small and broken and how unfixable she saw us. And a curse to make us see how dark and shattered the world was, not just by our own actions but of everyone else’s, and those of the past. We had been judged, and we were not worthy of peace... it was granted only for the sakes of those who had already been lost.

Many people could not bear it. For too long, in our ‘era of peace’, I heard word of deaths happening one after another. Of people who took their own lives, for their own reasons; I can’t claim to know the regrets and thoughts they carried. But for too long, I wondered if I would also join them. I considered it, but at the end of the day... something always stopped my hand. I would die eventually, but I could not find it in myself to take it into my own hands.

I don’t know why I felt the need to admit that, to admit that while I would welcome Death as a friend, I would never seek him out. Why setting the truth of all my thoughts on paper is so important. It just... was.

I am tired now; I grow tired quickly these days. So I will end this now, in a similar place to where I first started my writing.

I am an old man, heavy with fear and secrets and lies and regrets. I have been a son, a solder, a monster and a coward. In my early years, I followed the world into chaos and let it consume me; in later years, I tried to be a better man, to teach those who pick up our legacies to be better than all who came before.

But at the end of it all, I am merely a man who will accept the darkness coming at last. Who will welcome it with open arms and accept the judgement coming, no matter what.

But I hold a prayer, for you reading this and the world to come. A prayer that you can stand proudly in the light when your day comes, and with Korith’s enforced peace comes to an end... I hope you have learned from our cruelty to stand together, and live in harmony.

When I embark on my final journey, I wish you -the future- all the strength I have left to give.

Best wishes. And may all the blessings of the gods be with you.

[Final Note: The following scrawl was found, a scrap of paper inserted into the back of the final journal. Written in a language thought dead, we at first believed it to be a piece from another’s work. However, handwriting samples have proved it to be the author of the journals, and as such, it was included to keep as complete of a collection as possible.

The majority of these proud creatures remain separated by the mortal people, either by remaining by Korith’s side, or by making their homes high away in places the mortals cannot reach. As a result, many stories related to them are old, possibly exaggerated, and distorted by time.

Descriptions of the vast majority that remain in Korith’s presence are overwhelmingly similar; they tell of giant winged creatures that rule the skies, claws long as a man’s forearm and fangs to match. These beasts are powerful, indestructible even without the protection the goddess provides them; the sharpest swords would not pierce the crystal they seem to be, and even magic fails to leave a lasting mark. They hide in the clouds, following -or even guiding- the storms that so often tested the mortal world and commanding the lightning to strike where they will. Some stories even claim they are intelligent, speaking to mortals with the authority of the goddess who governs them.

And every story admits that they are all the army Korith could ever need, forever watching from above and ready to send the world to judgement beyond at a moment’s notice. To note, they share their mistress’ power over the storms; in anger, it is said they can send the winds to tear the world to pieces, rain to drown it, and lightning to set it aflame, with roars that could make the earth shake. It is unclear how much of this is an exaggeration, poetry made for a story, and how much of this could possibly be true. (Although perhaps it is better not to know in this case, and aim to not attract their anger).

However, there are exceptions… ancient stories of these crystal creatures making their home among mortals, taking them under their own mighty protection. These stories are more conflicted, their place as the “truth” debatable and even denied.

These exceptions take a different form; still crystal, still unbreakable and powerful, but different. It’s said that they take the form of an animal, their growth defined by the soul of the mortal who shares their bond… and the mortal, in turn, gains strength and abilities beyond human capacity. Ancient heroes are said to have a crystal companion, symbols of their right to fight and rule on the goddess’ behalf; it is theorized that these beasts were added into their stories later, to legitimize their power and to make it apparent in stories which goddess had chosen them as champion.

The last mention of these creatures -bonded to mortals or to Korith- was near a thousand years ago, when the Great War was put to an end. It was not the most flattering or kind impression to leave on; they flew over the battlefield, reflecting an already terrible scene on those alive and striking down those who would dare to resist their mistress. It was -by many accounts- a terrifying sight; beautiful beasts being corrupted and enhanced by the destruction left in their wake, impossible to stop or to look away from.